Out of the Ashes
by loveislouder94
Summary: "She loves this man, she loved him when he was the rich, self- assured father of her child, and she loves him now, a tragic mess she's not entirely sure how to deal with." A Narcissa/Lucius one-shot.


**A/N: For Lexen. I am thinking of you, and hope you like this :)**

Narcissa gasps as Lucius walks through the front door of Malfoy Manor, glad that Draco isn't home and doesn't have to see his father like this.

He's not the man she remembers. He's different now, he walks slowly, shoulders slumped and head bowed, and somehow he seems so much _smaller _without the pride he once wore like a cloak. Azkaban has done this to Lucius, Azkaban and _him_.

His eyes are bloodshot, his hair is matted and unkempt and his beard is overgrown. Narcissa thinks that he would never have been caught dead in such a state even six months ago, it's one more testament to the way their lives have changed.

He walks up and embraces her without a word, hugging her tightly as though his world will fall apart if he lets her go (who knows – maybe it _will_?) and burying his face in her hair.

"Lucius - " she says, surprised by this atypical display of affection.

He runs a hand through her hair, still unable to speak.

She loves this man, she loved him when he was the rich, self- assured father of her child, and she loves him now, a tragic mess she's not entirely sure how to deal with.

It hadn't always been this way, she reflects. In the beginning, they hadn't liked each other, let alone felt any sort of love. Theirs had been a relationship of convenience and necessity, the ultimate embodiment of respectable pureblood society.

And then, when Draco had entered their lives, something happened that neither of them could explain or understand. He brought with him the possibility of something new, and as their eyes met over the top of his crib, they knew what love was. The greatest emotions defy reason, and even after all this time, they're okay with that.

"Cissy – Cissy, Draco, he's punishing Draco because of me."

She takes a step back, and her Black breeding kicks in. Self-pity will get you nowhere. "Hush, Lucius," she tells him, dismissing his fears far more easily than she ever can her own. "The Dark Lord has chosen Draco, and he relishes the opportunity to prove himself."

"But he's just a boy," he answers, walking to their grand kitchen table and sinking into a chair.

"I know," she admits, "but he's _our _boy, and – and he'll be fine."

He's tempted to ask her if she means it, but he holds his tongue, unsure if either of them really wants to hear her answer.

* * *

"Your wand, Lucius, I require your wand." The Dark Lord's voice is smooth and menacing, promising death with every syllable, but his request is unimaginable.

"I - " Lucius begins, but Narcissa closes her hand around his wrist beneath the table, both a warning and a plea, because she can't bear to lose him again.

He hands over his wand, and it feels like a final defeat, a symbolic surrender to events that are beyond his control.

Narcissa does not look at him, but he can hear her breathing beside him, aware that her heart must be pounding in fear just as much as his, and somehow that knowledge holds him together like an intangible glue.

* * *

Their hands are entwined, and they're running faster and more desperately than they've ever run before, because it's more than just their lives at stake, it's Draco's, and when the possibility of losing him lies around every corner, beyond every second, purity doesn't matter anymore, composure doesn't matter anymore, this battle doesn't matter anymore. The only thing that matters is the three of them, and getting out alive.

"Draco!" They shout, their voices going hoarse with the effort. "Draco, where are you?"

They push and shove their way through the chaos, heedless of the spells that fly around them. It's a miracle they make it through uninjured, but when Narcissa contemplates it later she likes to think that maybe they were spared for a reason, they'd switched sides (or had no side at all) and survival was their reward.

When they eventually find him it's an accident, Narcissa stumbles, and catches herself against a wall, calling, softer than before and with a little less hope, "Draco!"

From an alcove, his head emerges timidly, and then the rest of him. He's got one hand pressed to his nose, trying to staunch the blood pouring from it. He smiles when he recognises them, and Narcissa is relieved to see that he is otherwise unhurt.

"Draco," she says again, nearly crying this time. She longs to hold him and never let go, her little boy forced to grow into a young man far too quickly, and she almost does, until she remembers where they are. So with her free hand she grabs Draco's, and together they navigate their way through the hoardes of fighters moving to the Great Hall.

Once they might have stayed to see the end unfold, when they were the Malfoys of old, proud and part of everything. Now, it doesn't even cross their minds as they hurry away from the ruined castle, grateful beyond belief for the gift of being alive.

Narcissa's not sure what the future holds – none of them are – but for the first time in a long time, she's certain they'll make it through, because they'll face it together.

"You can come in now." Lucius and Narcissa rise as one and follow Draco into the hospital room where Astoria lies, holding a small bundle.

"We've decided to call him Scorpius," she says, taking her eyes off the baby for a moment to acknowledge them. "Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy." Draco moves to stand beside her, gazing down at his son with an expression of tenderness Narcissa had never seen on him before.

"May I hold him?" Narcissa asks, and Astoria passes him over gently.

Her grandson is beautiful, there's no other word for it, and she's smitten in seconds. Lucius doesn't show it, but she can tell he feels the same.

Their eyes meet, just as they had when their son was born, and Narcissa doesn't have to ask to know what he's thinking: _we made it._

And somehow, they had. Somehow, the entire wizarding world had emerged out of the ashes of a raging inferno of prejudice, fear and hate, to become something better, not quite harmonious, but close enough.

**Also written for:**

**The Greenhouses Competition: almond, write about a Malfoy  
The Colours Competition: black (negative) write about the Dark Lord or one of his followers  
The Wand Wood Competition: cypress  
****Hogwarts Classes Category Competition: Potions**


End file.
